Gydal strode through the main market of Ardougne, black velvet lined coat blowing in the breeze, flapping and twisting as the wind tore at him. He grimaced sourly, his pallid, hollow face twisting in disgust. He had always hated things he could not control, and it had only grown worse since he had started his rise through the ranks of the Guild.
People hurried by, eager to be away from him, in his black velvets and silks, worked with silver thread. His hat, sitting nonchalantly on his head, was the latest fashion in Varrock, so he was told, and it firmed the belief in the minds of the peasants that he was a rich and probably influential lord, and when a lord grimaced, it was time for the common folk to be far away. VERY far away.
Of course, none of them understood the significance of the golden eagle feather thrust through the wide brim of his hat. If any of them did, he would be unlikely to survive five minutes.
Suddenly Gydal paused in front of a jewellery store. It was a small shop, barely larger than some of the food stands, but Gydal had a practiced eye, and the working on several of those silver brooches looked promising. . .
Gydal started, realising that the shopkeeper had said something.
“Could you repeat that?” he asked silkily, somehow managing to make it sound like an order.
“I-I simply asked if you wished to p-p-purchase a p-piece, my Lord,” the shopkeeper stammered, shaking slightly at the expression on Gydal’s face.
“Why would I wish to purchase pieces of this quality?” Gydal asked silkily, “They are second rate at best, and I shudder to think what the court would think of me if I arrived at the banquet wearing that!” he exclaimed, pointing at a brooch of asymmetrical gold and silver, shaped in the likeness of a wolf chasing its tail. It was quite easily the best piece in the shop, and while it was somewhat vulgar, it would fetch a very good price.
17-Jun-2011 13:15:45
